


Iron Crown

by DeathSquiggles



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Apocalyptic slice-of-life, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Rebuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 11:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13145994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathSquiggles/pseuds/DeathSquiggles
Summary: The world as it once was has ended, and Ray is left wandering the empty remains of Texas. He stumbles upon a tiny town surrounded by a chain link fence and is greeted by a man wearing a rusted iron crown.(Non-zombie apocalypse.)





	Iron Crown

**Author's Note:**

> My gift for this year's Ragehappy Secret Santa! As always, this event is wonderful and I love taking part in it. I hope you like it, my secret gift-receiver!  
> I took the idea for this from this prompt: http://kingvav.tumblr.com/post/168934463979/caffeinewitchcraft-strikingvapor  
> Happy holidays!

Ray has run out of batteries.

This is a conclusion he reaches with a tired sigh of resigned acceptance as he tucks his dead flashlight back into his bag and starts shuffling around the undergrowth, looking for a good spot to settle for the night.

Preferably not in the nest of a mother raccoon again. The scars up and down his arms are still pretty fresh from that one.

There’s not much moonlight to speak of, but it isn’t too cold out tonight, and Ray hasn’t been hearing anything that might concern him—no wolf howls or coyote yips or mysterious barks and/or roars—so it’ll probably be okay to just sleep on the ground. It’s not like he can climb without any light to see what he’s grabbing.

He happens upon a small clearing and settles on its edge, pulling his poncho from his bag and using it as a shitty blanket. God, he’s in desperate need of a town. First he ran out of gum, and then his jacket was destroyed in the forest fire he barely escaped, and  _ then _ his fidget spinner broke, because God just hates him for some reason.

Definitely has nothing to do with when he used it as a makeshift part in a shoddy attempt at a fishing pole the other month and had to smash it against a rock a few times to get it loose from the mechanism he had constructed. Nothing like that.

He hadn’t even caught any fish.

Tomorrow, he resolves to climb as high as he dares in the tallest tree he can find and search for any sign of a road or path that could lead him to a ruin. Ray tends to stay away from them, if he can- where there are supplies and resources, there are gangs of raiders and thugs—but he needs batteries if he’s going to make it through the next winter, and he needs ammunition if he wants to eat again anytime soon.

At the thought of food, his stomach growls dramatically. Ray tries to sate himself by nibbling on a cracker and pretending it’s a big, juicy burger. He can feel the heat on his fingers through the bun, can smell the spices and seasoning and feel the way the lettuce and onions crunch under his teeth as he takes a bite-

But it’s a shitty little saltine cracker, and no amount of imagining will convince his stomach otherwise.

Ray adds  _ calories _ to the list of things to look for in the next settlement.

The chirping of crickets and rustling leaves lull him to sleep.

 

-

 

The game trail he’s been following for the past couple of days spits him out onto an asphalt miracle. Gravel would have been a blessing, but here he is, staring slack-jawed at an actual fucking  _ road, _ with painted lines and guardrails and everything.

The relief makes him want to cry. He doesn’t, because he already loses enough hydration to sweat as it is.

He does allow himself a pack of fruit snacks as he walks to celebrate this great victory, because it’s important to acknowledge when he does a good job. At least, that’s what the parenting book he picked and read out of sheer boredom a few months back said. He pops a tiny apple shape into his mouth and pats himself on the back.

Good job, Ray. Not dead yet.

 

-

 

He’s so dead.

Picking which direction to go was a toss of the dice, but Ray must have rolled pretty poorly, because he’s been walking for five days, and he hasn’t seen a single private drive or break-off road. A few dilapidated signs warned him to slow down for the upcoming curve, or informed him that the speed limit is 45 mph, but he’s found no indication of where he is, or where the next town is. His chances of survival plummet every day he goes without finding another water source. Ray has been carefully rationing what’s left of his supply, but it’ll only stretch so far, especially while he’s walking like this.

God really  _ does _ hate him after all.

 

-

 

The only good thing about this shitty road is that he’s been going downhill for most of it.

 

-

 

Ray sees a deer through the trees and reaches for his gun before remembering that he doesn’t have any bullets, and hasn’t had any for a month.

 

-

 

The night sky is so much prettier now than it was before.

There’s no more light pollution- very little pollution of any kind, he imagines- so every clear night is like a laser show up above his head. He lived in cities, so he never saw more than a handful at once, and he  _ knows _ he never saw them come alive like this. Ray had never imagined that they would flicker and dance across the blackness, and he never saw that there were stars even in the blank spots, so dim that they couldn’t be seen when looked at directly.

Are there other planets up there with living things on them?

If so, Ray hopes they don’t have to have an apocalypse before they can appreciate the beauty of what’s above them.

 

-

 

The theoretical aliens probably don’t have light pollution. Or any kind of pollution. Ray bets those fuckers have 100% clean energy and live lives of leisure and relaxation. Those bastards.

 

-

 

He’s been kicking a rock along for two hours.

The sole of his left shoe finally tears at the front on a particularly enthusiastic kick, and he ends up stubbing his toe on the damn thing.

Ray swears and throws the rock as hard as he can into the trees. Fuck that rock. Fuck this road. Fuck the world, and fuck whatever deity decided it was a good idea to put Ray on it. When he finally starves to death on this damn asphalt treadmill, he’ll have some real stern words for whoever’s in charge.

 

-

 

Something finally changes.

It’s his first day after completely running out of water, and Ray has started accepting that he’s going to have to give up on the road to look for water, but then he turns a final bend and in the distance, he can see the trees thin out and another sign, far ahead. There are buildings beyond it.  _ Buildings! _ He may not be dead after all!

Ray gives the guardrail a respectful pat and starts walking with a grin on his face that doesn’t seem to want to leave, even when his jaw starts hurting.

 

-

 

The first buildings are completely stripped barns. The rest of town is behind a chainlink fence with barbed wire at the top. The fencing itself is at an odd angle, like it was installed incorrectly, or has simply been punished by time—regardless, it goes straight across the road with a padlocked gate smack in the middle, and Ray sticks to the trees and observes for a couple of hours before risking approaching. He would have liked to walk the whole perimeter of this thing first, maybe scouted for a couple of days, but he’s out of water and out of options.

The lock is a bit rusted, but still sturdy. Ray pulls out the little metal piece he found on the ground a long-ass time ago and quickly jimmies it, flinching as the noise rings out through the relative quiet—but he doesn’t hear a flurry of footsteps or shouting, so he carefully puts the metal piece away and opens the gate just enough to slip through.

Hopefully, whoever lived here is long gone.

The ‘town’ is little more than a smattering of old shops, decrepit brick buildings, and a few rotting houses. Ray is able to walk from one end to another in a few minutes- the buildings outside of the fence perimeter look to have been picked clean, like the ones he saw before he came in.

Huh.

 

-

 

The first three shops are empty of everything useful. The convenience store has a few rotting porno mags (all women, of course) and a full stock of alcohol (hard pass), but all of the food is gone, along with the batteries and the fidget spinner display. The music store next door is full of instruments and not much else. Ray doesn’t bother doing more than sticking his head through the door of the diner—the smell of long gone food is all he really needs to know.

Next down the line is a little Mom and Pop bank. Strangely, the door is locked, and with a proper cylinder one no less. Even tiny towns like this took the security of their money safely, he guesses- too bad it’s all useless now.

But when Ray peeks in the window, he thinks he can see something like sleeping bags and boxes. Whoever lives or lived here put their shit in the bank and locked the door.

He thinks he saw paperclips in the convenience store. It wouldn’t be the first lock he’s picked since the fall of civilization.

“Hey there.”

 

-

 

Oh. Fuck.

 

-

 

Ray turns around slowly, schooling his expression to keep the fear away. Confidence is key. He can talk his way out of this.

A man stands in the road with his arms folded across his chest, having apparently been watching Ray look into the windows. His jeans look surprisingly new, but Ray is more focused on the strange metal piece on his head—What the hell is that?

“Whatcha doing?” The man asks.

“Just— Passing through,” Ray forces out, pressing his fists against his thighs to keep his hands from shaking. The dude might not have a visible weapon, but he looks about twice Ray’s size, and. He doesn’t like those odds. Not when he’s out of water and exhausted from hiking on the road for days.

The man looks Ray up and down. “Got any weapons?”

Well. Isn’t that the question.

But there’s no way he could have gotten here without any kind of protection, and this guy definitely knows that if he’s still alive, so Ray decides to make the best peace offering he can think of.

“There’s a gun in my bag,” He says, gesturing backward with his chin. “I’m out of bullets, though.”

The man takes a couple of steps forward, putting the distance between them at about five yards or so. “Throw the bag over.” At Ray’s look of apprehension, he quickly adds, “I won’t steal any of your shit. Just can’t be too careful.”

Ray agrees with that sentiment, and he figures this guy would have clocked him while his back was turned if he wanted to take his stuff, so he shrugs the bag off and carefully tosses it in the man’s direction.

He catches it easily. “Front pocket,” Ray says, and the man quickly finds the pistol and checks the clip. It is, of course, empty, and Ray earns a nod of approval.

While the guy quickly checks the rest of the backpack, Ray gets a better look at his weird hat, and decides it must be a crown, based on the shape. But it’s made of iron, and rusted all to hell, like the man fished it out of a fucking river or something, and Ray can’t keep his fucking mouth shut, so he says—

“Wow, uh… Iron, huh? How’d you even get it wet enough to rust that bad? Why not, like, gilde it, or something?”

The man looks up sharply. “Oh,” he says, dropping Ray’s bag and crossing his arms. “Oh, oh, I’m sorry I don’t carry  _ gilding materials  _ around. Sorry I’m not prepared, like  _ you. _ Where’s your crown, huh?” He gestures to Ray’s head and raises an eyebrow. “You don’t have one? I didn’t think so. Watch yourself.”

Ray blinks. “I… Okay.”

_ “Anyway,” _ The man says, nudging Ray’s backpack away with his foot. “If you’re just passing through, you can be on your way.”

...Alright. Maybe he didn’t think this through, because he still needs water if he’s going to get anywhere.

“Or, if you were lying earlier about your intentions, I have a couple more options for you.”

“Uh,” Ray intones.

“If you’re one of those raiders from San Angelo, and you bring violence to my door, I will destroy you and all of your friends. But you don’t really look like the  _ raider _ type.”

He seems to be waiting for a response, so Ray shakes his head.

“If you’re a wanderer in need of supplies or somewhere to rest, we’re always willing to trade food and shelter for good work.”

“Are there more of you?”

The man snorts. “Do you think I put that fence up by myself?”

“I don’t fucking know,” Ray says, carding a hand through his hair. “You’re wearing a rusty-ass crown, man. I’m not making any assumptions.”

He considers this for a moment. Then he nods. “That’s fair.”

“Okay, well, uh… Can I have my stuff?”

“Sure.” He picks up Ray’s bag and tosses it over to him.

“Thanks, man.” Ray carefully pulls it back on, making sure the straps didn’t get fucked up. “I might take you up on some of those supplies. I ran out of water, and I could use batteries, if you happen to have any you can spare.”

“Water I can do. Batteries are gonna be a little more tricky.”

“Sure.” Ray tries to mask his disappointment.

“Tricky,” he says, “But not impossible. How about I show you what we’re looking for, and you decide if you want to stick around?”

“Sounds good.”

 

-

 

The man shows him a few spots where the fence is particularly bad, and explains that it needs to be repaired by holding it straight and piling up more dirt around the support poles. He takes Ray to a decently sized vegetable garden that needs to be fertilized, and shows him the barn where a few cows and chickens are hanging out. Finally, he points out the vines growing up the side of one of the brick buildings.

“Those need to be cut back,” he says. “But we don’t have a very good ladder, and the lightest person in our group is afraid of heights, so we haven’t been able to take care of that.”

Ray looks up at the vines, then over at the ladder lying on the ground nearby. It’s one of those simple rung ones that you just, kinda… Lean on stuff. And it definitely looks a bit beat up.

“Are you afraid of heights?”

“No,” Ray says. “But I’m afraid of breaking my neck after a shitty ladder dumps me on my ass.”

The man laughs. “We’ll have to beef that thing up, then. There’s another job you could help with.”

“Yeah.” Ray tucks his hands in his pockets and looks around. This place… Is really nice, actually. And while they were on their little tour, he noticed the solar panels on one of the buildings as well as the water pumps near the edge; that, in combination with secure(ish) walls and healthy livestock? It’s all the makings of a paradise, right here in the middle of Nowhere, Texas.

All that’s left is to see if he meshes well enough to be tolerated.

 

-

 

He starts with helping the man repair the fence. It’s the least he can do, since he broke their lock—not that he’ll be sharing that detail anytime soon.

Ray finds himself holding the fencepost up while the man transfers over earth from a pile he’s already made nearby.

“So,” he says between shovelfuls. “What’s your name?”

“Ray. You?”

“Ryan.”

“Cool.”

There’s a pause while Ryan wipes the sweat from his brow. It’s not the hottest weather Ray’s dealt with, but he’s still glad Ryan’s the one shoveling dirt in direct sunlight, and not him.

“What did you like to do, before?” Ryan asks.

“Video games.” Ray instantly replies. That’s what he misses the most. More than showers, and more than burgers, he wishes he had something to fill all of the empty hours, because books are usually too bulky to justify keeping around, and he broke his fucking fidget spinner.

Ryan perks up upon hearing his answer. “What kind of games?”

“First person shooters, mostly. But I played anything that interested me.”

“Ever play Fallout?”

“Of course.”

“Three was my favorite.”

“I’m a New Vegas man myself,” Ray replies, “But Three is definitely a close second.”

“They really got a lot of details wrong about the apocalypse,” Ryan says, jamming his shovel into the ground so he can lean on it and look around. “No one’s out here starting up radio stations or making new currencies or anything like that.”

“They got the bandits right, though.” Ray suppresses the urge to touch the scar on his abdomen from his last run-in with them.

“True.”

They work in quiet for a few minutes, and while they’re moving on to the next post, Ray maybe, might have just noticed that the dude has a nice butt. Ryan is the first friendly person he’s seen in literally months, okay? He can’t be blamed for appreciating him.

“God,” Ryan says, breaking the silence. “I really don’t miss taxes.”

Ray snorts. “Where’d that come from?”

“I was just thinking about money, and monetary systems, and how organized governments are a requirement for civilization—but they rely on taxation to maintain themselves, so if you want the benefits of society, you have to pay into it. And, I mean, that’s only fair, but doing my taxes every year fucking sucked.”

“Amen to that. I always made my friend Tina do mine for me so the IRS wouldn’t come steal all my shit.”

“Not sure if that’s how it works,” Ryan says with a smile. “Pretty sure they would just put you in jail.”

“Oh, hate that. I’d end up someone’s bitch in record fucking time.”

“Maybe you could be someone’s cuddle bitch.” He stops to pack down the dirt. “Get all of the protections with none of the anal.”

“Nah. I’m all or nothing,” Ray says.

Ryan laughs, and Ray realizes two things:

  1. He likes Ryan’s laugh. It’s kind of breathy and chuckle-y.
  2. He probably shouldn’t have made a joke about anal sex to a strange man he just met, particularly in the south.



Unfortunate, but at least he didn’t get his teeth kicked in.

 

-

 

After a couple of hours of labor (or, in Ray’s case, hanging out and holding a pole), Ryan takes him to the bank building and unlocks the door with a key hanging from a chain around his neck.

“Everyone else is out foraging at the town a few miles out,” Ryan explains. “You can take my bed. I’ll use one of theirs.”

“What are they looking for?” Ray asks, taking a seat in the spot Ryan indicated. “You guys seem like you’ve got a pretty sick setup.”

“Bullets. Medicine. Toilet paper. Any new books or magazines, since we’ve all read everything here. All of the stuff that we can’t replace on our own.”

Ray nods. “Makes sense.”

“We try to be as smart as we can with what we have, but there will be emergencies or circumstances that we can’t predict; maybe a solar panel will go down, or a cow will die, or someone gets sick. If we’re prepared for that, it makes us stronger.”

None of the groups Ray has been with in the past had ever thought that far ahead. They’d have been satisfied to sit on their asses with a setup like this; aside from maybe one or two people he’s met, everyone seemed to become content with letting things rot, after the world ended. He didn’t blame them—still doesn’t—but seeing this, seeing what a settlement  _ could _ be, Ray doesn’t want to go back.

 

-

 

He asks that night, when Ryan turns out the lamp- powered by batteries recharged with the solar panels—and the room is dark, save for the tiny amount of ambient light filtering through the windows.

“What’s up with the crown?”

In the dark, he can’t see Ryan beyond a basic silhouette, so all he has to go off of is the sound of his voice.

“It makes people think I’m crazy, which is helpful, because crazy people are unpredictable, so bandits don’t like to fight them.”

“Ah.”

“It’s also fun to think about how I could declare myself king, and there’s no one to stop me. Monarchies were never built on anything substantial to begin with. Who’s to say my name can’t be the next royal lineage?”

Ray hums, because he has no fucking clue how to respond to that.

“But mostly it’s because my nickname in college was  _ The Mad King, _ and it’s nice to be reminded of happier times.”

“‘The Mad King?’” Ray repeats. “How’d you get that one?”

“We were doing democracy simulations in my government class. Things escalated.”

Ray shifts to settle more comfortably against the pillow. “Escalated how?”

“Well, the farm animals were taking up too much space, so all I did was  _ suggest _ that we keep them underground.”

Ray snorts. “Like, in tunnels?”

“Like in holes.”

“Oh.”

There’s a pause.

“People weren’t being receptive to my ideas, so I wrote legislation that allowed me to annex more power until I was functionally a dictator, and then I declared myself king. And the animals in holes thing saved us millions, in my defense.”

“You’re fucking weird, man.” Ray mutters, but he’s smiling.

Ryan chuckles. “Can’t argue with that.”

 

-

 

The group returns three days after Ray’s arrival. In the interim, he helps Ryan repair the remainder of the fence, weed the garden, fertilize it to get ready for planting, and cut some of the growth on the lower portions of the buildings. All the while, they talk, about nothing and everything—the past, the future, their experiences with the new world, their experiences with the old one. Ryan is funny in a dry, quick-witted sort of way, and kind of terrifyingly smart. He seems to know something about everything. But he’s not an asshole about it; he offers his knowledge to contribute to a conversation, rather than to talk down to Ray, and he appreciates that.

They just… Get along. And by that third day, most of their conversation is an exchange of jokes that flow fluidly between them.

It’s normal.

But the normality is interrupted when they hear a great commotion, and Ryan’s face lights up with excitement as he splits into a grin and runs for the gate. Ray follows at a slower pace, already aware of what’s going to be waiting there and more than a little bit nervous for it. He really like Ryan. He really like living here, where there’s infinite water from the ground and a shit ton of food, both from cans and from the vegetable garden.

He never thought he’d see a familiar face in the small crowd that enters town.

 

-

 

Ray didn’t let himself think about his friends. It hurt too much.

But there’s Michael, looking maybe a bit more haggard and a great deal more tired, grinning as he slings an arm around the shoulders of the tanned man next to him.

Michael’s alive.

 

-

 

“Ray?!” He cries as he spots him meekly approaching.

All of the previous chatter comes to a grinding halt and all six of the newcomers are now staring at him.

“Holy shit,” Michael says, releasing the man beside him to rush forward—Ray takes an instinctive step back, but Michael doesn’t stop—and he barrels straight into him, wrapping him in the tightest hug he’s received in a very long time. “Holy  _ shit!” _ He repeats, much louder this time. “You’re alive! You fucking asshole, I can’t believe- How the fuck did you end up here?”

Ray makes a small choken noise and Michael’s grip instantly softens, allowing Ray more room to breathe. “I- I don’t know,” he stammers. “I got lost, and I followed the road.”

Michael pulls back but keeps his arms on Ray’s shoulders. The weight makes Ray feel more certain that this is real, and that Michael won’t just disappear when he blinks.

“Jesus, I can’t believe it’s you. I’m so fucking happy to see you, man.”

“Me too,” Ray says, wistful. And he means it.

 

-

 

Going from being by himself to being around Ryan wasn’t too hard.

Going from being around Ryan to being around Ryan, Michael, and their five groupmates? A little more tricky.

Everyone is pretty friendly to him. Ray learns that the tan guy’s name is Gavin, and that he and Michael are… Something. He asks Ryan one day while they’re pumping water to bring back in those big five gallon jugs.

He laughs. “Geoff’s convinced it’s a really long game of Gay Chicken. Jack thinks they just need to fuck and get it over with. Jeremy and Matt think they’re just genuinely unaware of how gay their friendship is.”

“What do you think?” 

Ryan smirks. “I think they know.”

“Oh?” Ray raises an eyebrow.

Ryan looks over his shoulder and leans in to Ray before whispering conspiratorially, “I walked in on them making out last week.”

“Fuck, guess that’s that.”

“Yeah. They haven’t said anything about it though, so it might not be… Formal?”

“Makes sense.” Ray accepts the full cooler from Ryan and loads it onto the Radio Flyer.

“Do you think you could ever be in a formal relationship, after everything?”

“Like, after the apocalypse?” Ray asks. Ryan doesn’t look at him, but nods. “I dunno. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

Ha. That’s a lie.

“Would you?”

“Yeah,” Ryan says. “With the right person, I think I would.”

 

-

 

Ryan places his hand on Ray’s shoulder. “I’m headed out.”

“Okay, man. See you later. Be safe.”

He watches Ryan head out the door. It’s been a few months, but he can still appreciate that view.

“Really, dude?”

Ray’s attention is snapped back to the card game he’s playing with Michael. “What?”

“You still haven’t made a fucking move.”

“Shut the fuck up, you have no room to talk.”

Michael raises his eyebrows. “And how’s that?”

“Have you told Gavin you want to be more than bros yet?”

He tosses his cards down and folds his arms. “That’s different.”

“I don’t see how. Embrace the bromance, Michael. It’s the only way.”

“Hey man, I’m just saying- I get to make out with him even if I don’t actually talk about feelings and shit with him. When was the last time you got any?”

“When was the last time  _ you _ did? We all sleep in the same fucking room.”

Michael smirks.

“No,” He says. “You do  _ not _ fuck in here.”

“Whatever you say, man.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Michael. Really?”

“Sometimes it’s not even one of our beds that we end up on. Things get confusing, in the heat of the moment-”

“Gross,” Ray says. “Awful. Horrible. I’m burning all of my bedding.”

“Nah, I’m fucking with you.”

“I’m not taking that risk.”

“Maybe you can share with Ryan instead.”

Ray buries his face in his hands. “I fucking hate you.”

Michael laughs.

 

-

 

The raiders come in the middle of the night.

Jeremy is the one on watch, but he has to do his watch from the ground, because he’s afraid of heights, so he doesn’t see them sneaking up from the opposite side while he’s on his perimeter walk, and they’re inside before he spots them.

Ray has never been good at fighting. His hands shake violently as he loads the clip into his pistol, flinching with every bullet that flies over his hiding spot. He was with Gavin, but they got separated when Gavin ran off to help Michael after seeing him get punched by one of the raiders, and now Ray is alone, and he doesn’t know what to do.

He locks the clip into place, takes the safety off, and counts down from three in his head before popping up, surveying the scene, and dropping back down. Not a heartbeat later, a bullet flies right where his head was. Ray chokes on his breath and spends several seconds coughing and wheezing.

He glances around—still no sign of the others around him, but he can hear their shouts and the sounds of returning fire.

He hears a pained cry nearby that makes his blood freeze.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Ray is dashing out of cover, rounding the corner and coming into view of two of the raiders, a crumpled form between them, one aiming a gun at a head partially covered by a rusty iron crown.

The scream he lets out is primal, and Ray doesn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

When their buddy with the gun falls to the ground, the other raider turns and sprints at Ray, brandishing a knife. He shoots again, but misses by a mile because his damn hands won’t stop shaking— _ fuck, did he hit Ryan— _ and then they’re upon him, tackling him to the ground, and it’s all he can do to keep their arm away from him, to keep the knife from piercing his skin.

God, this is how he’s gonna die. Whatever. He’s seen worse.

But then the raider is thrown off of him, and Ray is splattered with blood as Ryan smashes their head in with a baseball bat they found when they went scavenging together a couple months back.

There’s a pause, while Ryan pants, and Ray tries to catch up with what just happened.

“I don’t think the autograph is valid anymore,” Ryan says grimly, and Ray breaks into wheezing hysterical laughter right there on the ground.

 

-

 

They manage to drive out the raiders without losing anyone, but there are injuries.

Ryan’s ribs are bruised to hell and a couple of his fingers are broken on his left hand. Jeremy took a nasty hit to the head that’s left him concussed. Most worrying is Michael, who was ‘lightly stabbed’ (his words) when a couple raiders came at him at once.

It’s a pretty sorry sight the next morning, with the injured set up on the teller counters while Jack patches them up. Ray and Gavin elected to stay and ‘help’ Jack rather than clearing out the bodies with Geoff and Matt. Neither of them have the stomach for it, so here they are, watching as bones are set and bandages are wrapped.

Ryan insists on going to help as soon as he’s wrapped up. Ray stands to go with him.

“Don’t let him lift anything heavy,” Jack warns.

“If he lifts something heavy and makes his ribs worse, I’ll break them myself.” Ray promises.

“Okay. Don’t actually do that.”

“I don’t think he even could,” Michael pipes up. “Look at those twig arms, Jack.”

“Good point.”

 

-

 

Geoff takes one look at Ryan’s bandaged hand and the way he hobbles over and points in the direction of the garden. “Go make sure the vegetables are okay. Don’t even think about trying to move any of these fucker’s bodies in your condition.”

Ryan rolls his eyes. “Okay, Mom.”

Geoff jabs his finger and goes back to dragging one of the corpses into the wheelbarrow.

 

-

 

“I think the vegetables are okay.” Ryan says. In spite of Ray’s protests, he’s down on his hands and knees, visibly flinching with every move but carefully inspecting the trampled plants. “A little fucked up, but they’ll make it.”

“How can you tell?”

Ryan sits up and brushes the dirt from his arms. “I’m a botanist. I know these things.”

“You were a theatre major.” Ray points out.

“You got me there.”

Ray extends a hand, helping Ryan up when he takes it. He lets go.

Ryan doesn’t.

“Listen, Ray…”

Ray swallows, shifting his weight from foot to foot while Ryan seems to collect his thoughts. He’s still holding on to Ray’s hand.

“I was so scared last night that I was going to lose you.” He turns his gaze to Ray, locking their eyes together. No amount of nerves would be enough to turn Ray’s attention. “You’re really important to me. What we have right now—this is important. But, uh… I mean, you’ve probably already figured it out—I’m not so great with the whole ‘subtlety’ thing. But I really like you.”

Ray’s heart skips a beat.

“If you’re- If you’d be, uh, if you would want to maybe… Like, potentially try to…” Ryan trails off, face tinted pink and looking a bit frustrated with himself. “Fuck, why can’t I say this. I-I would be-  _ You  _ would be…”

Ray huffs out a small laugh. Ryan’s facade of smooth confidence has completely melted away, and all that’s left is the stuttering nerd underneath.

He uses his free hand to cup Ryan’s face.

“You’re a dork,” he says. “I like you too.”

Ryan lights up like Ray just handed him an endless supply of Diet Coke. But he’s still just sitting there, looking shocked and happy, so Ray makes the move for both of them and presses up on his toes to kiss him.

Ryan reciprocates, and it’s a short, tender thing, and then Ray steps back, maintaining their hands as a point of physical connection.

“Wow,” Ryan says after a moment, looking almost in a daze. “If some measly broken fingers were all it took for you to kiss me, I would have snapped them myself ages ago.”

Ray snorts and squeezes Ryan’s fingers. “Careful. Keep talking like that and I’ll start demanding regular sacrifices.”

Ryan uses his index and middle finger on his bad hand to brush some hair back from Ray’s face, and he’s kind of relieved that he got covered in blood last night, because they don’t usually bother making trips to go bathe in the nearby creek, and he had built up a decent stink before the raiders came.

“What kinds of sacrifices are we talking here?”

“Oh, you know,” Ray replies, leaning into Ryan’s touch. “Fat stacks. Weed. All of the gum you can find.”

“You know we live in a bank, right? I could get you as much money as you want.”

“Oh, shit, you’re right. Guess you’ll have to give me your crown instead.”

Ryan laughs. “That’d have to be a pretty damn good trade. What are you offering in exchange?”

_ “Hey,” _ Geoff’s voice carries from probably around a block away.  _ “You two better not be fucking in my garden.” _

They look in the direction Geoff’s voice came from, then back at each other, and burst out laughing.

“It’ll help fertilize the crops!” Ray eventually manages to call out.

Geoff’s responding cry is a mix between anguish and disgust.

 

-

 

Ryan stops by the table to kiss the top of Ray’s head and drop off a bottle full of water before heading toward the door. “Be back in a bit, dear.”

“Aight,” Ray replies, reaching out to trail his fingers down Ryan’s arm as he passes. “Later, babe.”

Michael makes an exaggerated gagging noise.

Gavin stops staring at his cards in befuddlement to give Ray a similar look. “How do you guys already sound like old people?”

Ray blinks at him. “What?”

“Y’know,” Gavin gestures vaguely. “Like you’ve been married fifty years.”

“It’s because they’ve been dating for, like, two years, Gav.” Michael says, giving Ray a pointed look.

Ray sticks his tongue out.

But Gavin has a point, confusing as his wording might be; they’ve barely been together two months, but it seems like all of the ease that came with their friendship has only increased when romance is added into the equation. Now Ray doesn’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing or letting a touch linger too long, because there are no secret crushes to accidentally reveal, and no friendships to permanently ruin with unreciprocated feelings.

“I’m being serious, Michael,” Gavin protests. “It’s like you just flipped a switch!”

“Good dick will do that,” Ray sagely replies.

Gavin turns bright red and Michael makes another noise of disgust.

Ray grins and plays his card, winning himself the game and the two pieces of candy they had bet on it.

“Son of a bitch,” Michael groans. “Fuck you, Ray.”

“You wish.”

“I really don’t.”

“Your loss.” He says as he claims his candy.

 

-

 

The world is empty and dangerous these days, but Ray has staked out his claim of simplicity, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to defend that.

Luckily, as their family grows, the resources they find grow with them: two guys called Trevor and Alfredo, along with their dog, Teeko, lead a decent-sized herd of sheep with them as they cross Texas, searching for somewhere safe to settle. A woman named Mica comes and stays for a few days, disappears, and returns a month later with hundreds and hundreds of seeds for all sorts of edible plants. Lindsay and Meg come in the dead of winter with a horse-drawn wagon filled with canned goods that pull them comfortably through the cold. The best addition comes from Larry, who informs them that the raider tribe that had been living in the nearby town has apparently cleared out, leaving their sizeable cattle herd behind. With some careful planning and help from Teeko, the herd is relocated to the fields around their town, and the barns are refurbished to accommodate the new population.

They expand the fence perimeter and reinforce it. Trevor works with Matt to devise a way to insure their water supply stays reliable. The garden grows, and they have access to meat now that they have all of this excess cattle.

Things are looking pretty fucking good.

 

-

 

Ray is sitting with his feet dangling over the rooftop’s edge, Ryan sat criss cross beside him, pressing his knee against Ray’s thigh.

“Do you think things will ever go back to normal?” Ray asks.

Ryan contemplates for a moment. “I hope not.”

Ray turns to look at him. “Why?”

“Humans weren’t very good at being nice to the planet,” he explains, gaze soft as he watches the sunset. “We fucked it up pretty good. Nature took back over.”

“Nature got tired of you putting farm animals in holes,” Ray says, plucking the crown from Ryan’s head and placing it on his own.

“It was a very economical use of space,” Ryan argues, but he’s smiling. He leans in to kiss Ray, and while he’s distracted, steals his crown back.

Ray grasps his chest dramatically. “I can’t believe this,” he says. “Betrayed, by my own boyfriend.”

“Be happy I didn’t cut your hand off, you little thief.” Ryan replies, patting Ray’s knee.

“You’re so fucking weird.” Ray leans against Ryan’s chest and sighs contentedly as he automatically reaches around his shoulder to tuck him in closer.

“Yeah, but you knew what you were getting into.”

“I certainly did.”

They both pause to watch the last sliver of the sun disappear beyond the horizon. Stars are already winking into view in the darker portion of the sky; it’s shaping up to be a beautifully clear night.

They retreat to the blankets they laid out earlier and lie back, watching as a few points of light turn into hundreds, then thousands, and they have a clear view of the meteor shower playing out overhead, pressed together on the rooftop, hands clasped.

And it’s perfect.


End file.
